dual personalities

True to my routine, on Saturday I went to a couple of estate sales. One was in a lovely home on a street down by my old church, a neighborhood I am very familiar with and which is one of my favorites. It was the home of a former professor and his wife, the home they raised their three children in. The children are my age and went to the other private school (the co-educational one) in this flyover town.

(Not the house I visited, but similar)

It was a beautiful three-story house, probably built in the 1920s, with a wide front-to-back front hall, a lovely staircase, and back stairs from the basement to the third floor. The kitchen looked virtually untouched with an old-fashioned pantry. The basement, although not “finished” to today’s standard, had terrazzo floors and a fireplace. Such a wide and airy house, full of lovely things, and books, and evocative testaments to lives well lived–canoe paddles, skates, skiis, pictures taken out west. All I could think, however, was how the next family to buy this house would undoubtedly feel the need to gut-rehab it, ripping out walls to make a huge kitchen with granite counters, and all the rest. Sigh.

I also could not help wondering why the three children did not want all their parents’ stuff! No room for their childhood twin beds? Trunks from dad’s days at summer camp? Their mother’s St. John suits? Her sewing baskets? There were even some family pictures and engraved teaching awards! I suppose things are never what they seem.

I bought a couple of books. Mostly this outing made me very sad. It was a little too personal I guess. Much as I love estate sales, I hope my own children do not have one. The idea of people pawing through my things! Just give it away!  Or throw it away! Have a big bonfire and burn it (probably not legal, but somehow preferable)!

Time marches on; obviously some people have a much easier time moving with it than I do.  The past is prelude and all that. So true, Will Shakespeare, but for some of us, the past is always with us.